You Don't Know My Name
by Dr. Holland
Summary: 1500 years after the time of Camelot and Albion, Gwen is a waitress at a diner in NYC's Financial District. Every morning at 10, a certain handsome Pendragon comes in, sits at her counter, and orders pie and coffee. An Arwen modern AU where the once and future royal couple live again. (Rated M for future chapters.)


**YOU DON'T KNOW MY NAME**

**Summary:** 1500 years after the time of Camelot and Albion, Gwen is a waitress at a diner in NYC's Financial District. Every morning at 10, a certain Pendragon comes in, sits at her counter, and orders pie and coffee. An Arwen modern AU where the once and future royal couple live again. Rated M for future chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, or Arthur, or any of the knights. (More's the pity.) Veteran of many fandoms, but this is my first Merlin fanfic. (Be gentle!)

**Rating: **M

**Chapter 1 – The Waitress and the Dragon**

_**Gwen**_

She could set her watch by it.

Every weekday morning at 10, three things would happen at the Liberty Cafe and Diner like clockwork.

The timer on the coffee maker would beep.

The theme song for the _Rachael Ray _show would sound from the TV speakers.

And a young businessman would walk in the front door, sit at the counter, and unfold his copy of the _New York Times._

Every weekday morning at 10, she'd take his order for pie and coffee. Until the day that she didn't.

At 10 AM that day, Gwen was busy taking an order at one of the tables. Retired couple from Australia. The wife's hair was like a cloud that matched her husband's Saint Nick-worthy beard. They were nice enough, if a bit chatty.

Liberty Cafe didn't get as many tourists as other, classier spots closer to Midtown and Times Square. Liberty was one of those no-frills, greasy spoon neighborhood diners that only New York locals favored, so mid-mornings after the breakfast rush were slow. The earliest anyone would come in looking for lunch was a quarter to 11. The other waitress on duty would usually take her break while Gwen would see to the few customers who made their way through the door.

_Including_ Mr. 10 AM.

But that day was different.

The boss had just hired a new waitress, a blonde bombshell from the cornfields by the name of Aria. Now, Aria just didn't get how things ran yet, although the girl had been working nearly a month. She often clocked in late, making excuses… an audition ran long, or a late-night performance led to oversleeping.

_(More tits than sense, _as Gwen's brother Elyan was fond of saying…. _after _he dodged out of Gwen's reach.)

Gwen knew the boss was looking for any excuse to fire that poor girl. But as much as the blonde annoyed her, she often found herself covering for Aria. She felt sorry for her. After all, if _she_ had a fancy drama school degree, she wouldn't want to go back to Nebraska, either. Everyone came to New York City to pursue their dreams.

But again, today was different.

Like any experienced waitress, Gwen could give the illusion of attentiveness to even the most trying patrons. As the elderly pair went on and on about all the attractions they'd seen, Gwen nodded and asked questions as if it was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard… as if she hadn't heard it all thousands of times before… _while_ keeping an eye on Aria as she flirted with Mr. 10 AM.

_You're totally overdoing it, _Gwen thought idly, feeling no more than a bit of jealousy. After all, for all she knew, Mr. 10 AM could be gay. He was friendly enough, but in all the months since he'd been coming to Liberty like clockwork, he'd never tried anything like some of the more grabby, desperate men who sat at the counter.

So it was funny to watch as Aria tried to work her feminine wiles on her favorite regular. Aria's breasts heaved as she leaned over the counter, and she had a goofy grin on her face. Mr. 10 AM barely registered the fact that she was there, keeping his eyes on the _Times _headlines.

Gwen stifled her giggle and turned her attention back to Grandma and Grandpa Australia.

"…and I swear, it was _the _most magnificent sight I'd ever seen! 'Liberty Enlightening the World,' I've always wanted to see her with my own two eyes, and now I have."

"Was she everything you'd imagined?" Gwen replied, doing her best to keep her friendly smile from becoming a smirk at Aria's growing consternation.

"That and more," her husband piped up, as Aria took the _first _mug of coffee away from Mr. 10 AM, rushing toward the fresh pot. _Which she should have done in the first place_, thought practical Gwen. _He's nice, but he's particular about his coffee._

Walking away with the couple's order a moment later, Gwen rounded the end of the counter and was immediately greeted by Aria.

"Gwen, I hate to ask, but…"

"Problem customer?"

"Yes!" she whispered. "I've served him his coffee _twice. _The first he said was too cold and left an aftertaste. Now he says it's too bitter. The nerve! This isn't Starbucks!"

Gwen chuckled. "He's one of my regulars. Very particular… just look at the cufflinks, that tells you all you need to know."

"He doesn't like me," Aria sniffed.

_Of course he doesn't, _thought Gwen. _Poor kid._

"Let me take him off your hands, doll. You go take care of those tourists."

Aria seemed grateful. "Thanks, Gwen. There's just no pleasing some people! I hate rich snobs… anyway, I'm happy to split the tip."

_Oh, you sweet young thing, _Gwen thought. Aria had yet to learn that overseas tourists could be the absolute _worst_ when it came to taking care of wait staff. Most countries didn't observe America's rules for tipping. _Or paying the help less than minimum wage, making it impossible to save up._

"Yeah, sure," she said casually, tearing the top page off her notepad. "Go on, put the order in."

As Aria scampered away, Gwen went for a fresh mug of coffee. She shook her head at the milky mess Aria had set down in the dish pan nearest the sink. _Clueless girl is clueless. _Mr. 10 AM liked his coffee _fresh_, _black_, and _sweet_.

Precisely the way she always fixed it for him.

Walking down the counter with the mug of coffee in hand, Gwen sized up Mr. 10 AM. Usually he was dressed in a much more conservative navy blue or gray suit; today, he'd chosen dark taupe. He was one of the most handsome men Gwen had ever seen in person, but the color of his suit did nothing for him (blondes weren't really suited for taupe, in her opinion), and the tie he'd chosen was quite hard on the eyes.

This told her a few things about him: he was probably colorblind, he was likely single, and he was almost certainly _not _gay. No self-respecting gay dude Gwen knew would walk around like that voluntarily, and no self-respecting woman would have imposed it on her boyfriend or husband.

It wasn't that he looked _bad _- that would be impossible for such a well-built specimen. It was just that she was used to him looking a bit more polished.

Gwen wondered what was going on.

When she was still fifteen feet away, Mr. 10 AM looked up…

And he smiled.

She smiled back. "Hey there. TGIF," she said.

"Hello yourself," he replied. (She _loved _his smooth British accent; hearing it was the highlight of her day.) When Gwen went to place his mug next to the paper, he took it from her hands instead.

"Careful, it's hot," she warned, as his large fingertips brushed her small brown ones. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it made her feel tingly and excited every time.

_Stop it, Gwen. _ _No sense in fawning over the man… especially after all these months._

Mr. 10 AM didn't reply at first, just took a sip. His blue eyes closed with pleasure.

"Yes… just how I like it."

Gwen smiled warmly. But when he opened his eyes and stared at her, it took all her years of waitressing not to get flustered.

_Well. This is new. Usually he just turns back to his paper…_

"I'm glad. What kind of pie will you be having today?"

"What have you got?"

"You're in luck! Today we've got apple crumb, pumpkin, or coconut cream." She tried not to bite her lip. Most of the time, she didn't care what people thought of the pies, but what none of the customers knew was that they were _her _pies.

Gwen had spent her time in culinary school well. She'd spent her late teens and early 20s doing housekeeping and minding rich people's children on the Upper East Side. When she'd had enough of that, she'd done two baking courses, one in Paris, and one right here in New York. The waitressing, the hovel of a studio apartment in the Meatpacking District with access to a commercial kitchen, saving money, the long hours and the sacrifices, all of it was going to be so she could open her bake shop…

Someday.

She said none of this, but was quite pleased that Liberty's regulars kept coming back for her pies and cakes and confections. She loved the quiet simplicity of her life…

_Including_ her harmless bedtime fantasies of what Mr. 10 AM might look like under those suits of his.

"Well, although the coconut cream and pumpkin are divine…"

She returned his smile. "I don't even know why I ask. You love our apple crumb pie."

"It's my favorite."

The pie had been baking last night in her oven upstairs. There were plenty enough pies in stock, but they'd had a big group in the afternoon before. Suddenly Gwen was happy that she'd stayed up late preparing it.

Instead of going back to his paper, he kept staring at her. Almost as if he couldn't help it…

"Can I get you something else?"

She regretted her words as soon as they escaped her lips. He broke the stare. But instead of looking at his paper, he looked away.

"No, pie and coffee sound good. Thanks."

Gwen nodded and scurried off to fill his order. And usually, Mr. 10 AM would return to his paper. But today was different.

He was staring at her as she worked. Watching every move she made. Suddenly, she felt hot in her uniform.

As she walked back with the pie and a napkin-wrapped set of silver, their eyes met again.

"Here's your pie, Mr…"

"Pendragon."

_Pendragon. _After all these months, she _finally_ had a last name for her devastatingly handsome regular. The name was unfamiliar to Gwen, but it radiated power and prestige. She wondered if he had a lordly title back home across the pond. It also seemed oddly familiar.

_Where have I heard that name before?_

It didn't matter. It was good to know his name. _No more Mr. 10 AM._

"Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Pendragon?"

He was unwrapping his fork and knife. "No, that will be all."

Gwen went to head back down the counter, but his voice stopped her short.

"Wait. There is one more thing…"

She turned around expectantly, wondering if she should have added more whipped cream or something.

"Is your name actually Gwen?" He indicated her name tag.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course. What else would it be?"

"Well, you don't seem like a Gwen at all."

_What was he playing at? _

"I assure you, everyone calls me Gwen."

"Come on, that can't really be the name you were born with?"

Her mirth died down and the smile disappeared from her face.

_Everyone calls me Gwen. Everyone since…_

"I should not have been so presumptuous. Please forgive me."

_Did he seem… flustered?_

"There's nothing to forgive, Mr. Pendragon," she said quickly. "Gwen is my nickname. My name is Guinevere."

Now it was his turn to fall silent. "Guinevere?"

"Yes, it is. Can you believe it? Guinevere _Findabair_ Leodegrance! That's my entire name. And my parents actually claimed that they love me!"

She couldn't suppress the girlish giggle that escaped her lips. _Great, he'll think I'm as flighty as Aria._

He was shaking his head. "I can't believe it. _Guinevere._"

"Ridiculous, right? I mean, my dad was a nice, normal dockworker from Louisiana, but my mother taught medieval literature and folklore at CUNY. Loved anything from the Middle Ages… but now, I'll bet you understand why I prefer Gwen. You would too."

"Guinevere," he breathed, and this time the way he said it sent little chills up and down Gwen's spine.

_Oh, Mr. Pendragon, we're heading into uncharted waters. _

"My name is Arthur."

She couldn't help her frown. "I thought your name was Pendragon?"

"It is. I am Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Albion International."

Gwen forced a laugh. Completely ignoring the fact that he'd just told her he was the _CEO _of one of the richest corporations on the planet, she focused on the first part of his confession.

"Wait. Your name is _Arthur_? As in, that's your _actual_ first name?"

"Since the day I was born."

_Arthur and Guinevere. _

The way Arthur Pendragon was looking at her made Gwen want to fan herself. Suddenly, things were going far beyond her even her most creative fantasies… time to lighten the mood so the man could finish his coffee and get back to work.

Even if that was the very last thing she wanted him to do.

"Well, look at that," she quipped, attempting to lighten things. "Don't we make a pair? Queen Guinevere serving King Arthur his pie and coffee every weekday at ten," she chuckled. "Enjoy your breakfast, hon."

He said no more, and the jingle of the bells on the door signaled another group coming in, this time Red Hat society ladies who'd just seen the 9/11 memorial and were heading uptown to tour the museums. For the next while, Gwen was so busy taking their orders that she didn't get the chance to check on Mr. 10 AM… no, _Arthur Pendragon._

When she got back to the counter, Mr. Pendragon was gone. As always, there was a $20 dollar bill on the table next to his empty plate. _Always knew he had some fancy job, leaving nearly $15 for the tip…_

Beside the bill was his business card. Arthur Pendragon was indeed the CEO of Albion International. It was a Fortune 500 corporation that even Gwen who didn't pay attention to such things had heard about. She'd even heard the name before…

It suited him.

She was going to put the card in her pocket when she noticed that there was writing on the other side.

_Guinevere – dinner tonight. After your shift. Text me and let me know if you want to come. I'll send a car. –A._

**AG-AG-AG-AG-AG**

_**Arthur**_

As he walked around his loft penthouse later that evening, checking the details of the caterers' work, Arthur couldn't stop thinking about the _gorgeous_ little waitress at the Liberty Diner.

Guinevere. (Thank the gods he _finally _had a name for that pretty face.) Of course that would be her name. It suited her. It pleased him.

Guinevere Leodegrance (for in his head, she was already Guinevere, _never _Gwen). She'd had top billing in his daydreams _and _erotic fantasies for quite some time… perhaps ever since the first time he'd stumbled into the diner after learning his latest ex-girlfriend wasn't who she said she was. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to their first encounter.

He'd been so hung over that he was absolutely no good that day. It was the morning after his ex-girlfriend Mithian had cleared out the last of her things, and Arthur had drunk himself to sleep. He was hung over… so hung over, in fact, that he'd fallen asleep during one of his father's presentations.

Uther, chairman of the Albion International board of directors, had _not _been pleased. He'd pulled his only son aside after everyone else had gone. In typical Uther fashion, Arthur had been chewed up, spat out, and put into his place within the first minute of his father's lecture.

"No true Pendragon man broods and simpers over a mere _woman, _Arthur_," _raged Uther. "I told you that Mithian girl did not come from the right sort of family. The blood of lords and ladies, kings and queens run through your veins!"

"Yes, but we live in _America _now, Father," Arthur slurred. He was so tired of his father's elitism, for there was no end to it.

"You are making me regret choosing you over your sister to run this company."

Normally, his father's harsh words would have cut Arthur to the heart, but today, he was too sad to care.

"Perhaps you're right, Father. Ever since my _dear _sister took over Ealdor Corp, they've been poised to run Albion out of business. Perhaps it's poetic justice since you dragged me out of a lucrative military career _and _decided to pass Morgana over just because she's a woman…"

Uther raised a hand to strike his son, but thought better of it. After all, it wouldn't do if the story of a Pendragon civil war leaked to the press.

"Get out of my sight."

He had. Waving off the fawning employees, Arthur rode down the glass elevator of the Albion Center One skyscraper, and dialed his best friend's number. He was annoyed when after several rings, instead of Merlin's voice, the voicemail recording played.

"_Merlin, _you damnable lumphead, where the hell are you? Stop groping whatever illegal coed you've taken to bed this time, wake up, and call me back."

That was just like Merlin… oh wait, it was _Dr. _Emrys now. Merlin was a chemistry postdoc at Columbia, which in Arthur's view, was really his lifelong comrade's excuse to stay drunk and sleep in late with cute undergrads. He was too stupid to be anyone's professor, let alone in the Ivy League.

Arthur stumbled about a block until a door chime and the scent of fresh coffee filled his senses. He must have passed by the nondescript diner countless times, but never thought to walk in. It just wasn't the kind of place that he'd ever been drawn to… but he needed coffee, immediately, and the block and a half to the shop that sold the Illy espresso he favored seemed impossibly far away.

He walked into the Liberty Cafe and Diner.

And that's when he noticed the pretty little waitress.

_Guinevere. _

He'd observed her every weekday morning for months now. And everything he'd discovered about Guinevere Leodegrance was pleasing to him.

To be certain, there were a thousand young women in Manhattan alone who were more conventionally beautiful, whatever the fuck _that _meant. His ex Mithian had been one of those – supermodel, dressed in the latest fashions, never a hair out of place. It was what Arthur knew and expected out of women, for all the women of his acquaintance were like that… even his dear, _sweet _half-sister.

But Arthur was dead tired of pointless, expensive arm candy. Before Mithian, he'd dated the equally pretty and equally _bland_ Vivian. Before Vivian, he'd dated… what was her name again? The one whose father had an elaborate scheme to kidnap or kill him?

Oh, that was Sophia. He'd almost forgotten her crazy ass.

And before Sophia, there was…

Hell. He couldn't even remember.

But then there was Guinevere. His little waitress instantly set his blood on fire from the first smile she'd flashed at him when he sat down at the counter.

That first day, he'd ordered black coffee with sugar and no cream… and a slice of the apple crumb pie that was in a glass display dish down the counter. Growing up with posh English and Welsh parents as he had, American desserts were still a bit of a novelty and a treat for him. Pies were a bit sweeter and more extravagant than the tarts the Pendragon cooks made…

That night, he'd dreamed of her.

And Guinevere had tasted like that heavenly apple crumb pie all over.

So Arthur had gone into Liberty every day for the past nine months. Mithian had run off with Leon right before Christmas; it was now early September. Every weekday at ten, the most delectable little waitress in Manhattan served him coffee that was fresh, hot, dark, and sweet… and slices of apple pie that melted in his mouth.

Arthur didn't miss his 10 am appointments for vacation or holidays, either. He'd been there on Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day…

And his little waitress was always right there waiting for him.

It wasn't as if he'd planned to ask Guinevere out when he went in that day. Sure, he'd known months earlier that he would love to have a laugh with her over something stronger than coffee. He'd enjoy having a meal with her more substantial than even Liberty Diner's heavenly pies.

And he'd risk being disowned by his father just to have her in his bed for one night…

Just to see her pretty, smiling face when he woke up in the morning.

Merlin, as always, was the first to realize something was going on.

"So what's her name, Wart?"

Arthur (who had been enjoying a mug of beer) set it on the table they were sitting at in the upscale sports bar where they were watching the World Cup… and walloped Merlin on the head.

"Ow! What's _that _for?"

"That was for calling me _Wart." _He and Merlin had been tossing back and forth insults and degrading nicknames since childhood. The two men had almost nothing in common save for being the only two boys from England at their tony boarding school more than ten years earlier. Merlin had been a scholarship student; Arthur hadn't been. And although they were close, the insufferable dollophead pissed him off more often than not.

Yet if he were forced to admit it, Arthur knew that Merlin was more than a friend. He was Arthur's brother, if not in blood, in every other sense of the word.

"Whatever, idiot. You've got a new girlfriend, don't deny it!"

"The only thing I'm not denying is that you've still got the hots for that Icelandic chick…"

"Don't bring Freya into this, Arthur. Changing the subject won't work. Who is she, and why are you so quiet about it? This is not like you."

"What's not like me?"

"Subtlety."

Arthur glared.

"So at least tell me what she looks like?"

_Silky dark curls I want to twirl around my fingers. Smooth, soft-looking dark skin. Breasts that make me want to thank whatever third-rate manufacturer made those Liberty waitresses' shirts. And her eyes… _

_Her eyes are as dark and sweet and hot as the coffee she serves up daily. I could get lost in those eyes, Merlin._

_I could look into them forever._

"I'm not telling you a thing."

And he'd thumped Merlin again before getting up and heading back to the bar for another round.

_Guinevere. _He loved his daily ritual of going to read the paper, enjoying the perfect coffee and pie, and seeing _her. _But her name…

Her name was a sign.

Arthur believed in signs.

The front desk called up, signaling that a Miss _Leodegrance_ was on her way up to his suite. He scanned the studio penthouse, located at the top of the hotel, taking in the dim lighting, the candlelight and meal the caterers had set up before leaving just a few minutes before, the panoramic view of the nighttime New York City skyline…

Everything was ready.

**_-__to be continued-_**

**A/N: **This is my first fanfiction for the BBC's Merlin television show. I recently finished the series and was completely smitten by Arthur and Gwen's smoldering chemistry. Although the ending was very sad, since Arthur is the once and future king… why couldn't Gwen also be his once and future queen? I thought about what it'd be like if they were reborn in the 21st century, and then…

And then I flashed back to the Alicia Keys video for "You Don't Know My Name," and this fic came to be.

So tell me, Merlin & Arwen fans. What do you think happens next?

Until next time… cheers!

**~Dr. Holland **


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